Blogs

I love mysteries. Right now I’m reading a great one by Harlan Coben called “Caught.” I won’t give away much of the book, because it’s such a good read, but I do want to talk about something that happens in the book: There’s a series of people who are having their reputations besmirched because of online, anonymous postings about them. The postings accuse them of doing terrible things and talk about them in a very negative manner.

The dictionary definition for the word “compassion” is a feeling of deep sympathy and sorrow for another who is stricken by misfortune, accompanied by a strong desire to alleviate the suffering. We tend to approach compassion only when we are feeling sorry for someone or sympathizing with their pain.

I had the good fortune of taking a week’s vacation with my family and my sister’s family. We drove many hundreds of miles to see a number of sights. At one point, we had driven for several hours and we were sorely lost in the hill country of Pennsylvania. The kids were starving, we were tired, and we stopped at a McDonald’s for a restroom break and some food. I actually don’t eat McDonald’s food, but my kids like it. They gave me their “order” and then ran to the restroom.

My heart is broken this week. Those of you who follow my work know that I am an animal lover. I have 10 pets of my own, and am fostering four small kittens right now. I volunteer at the local rescue group every Monday, cleaning cages. The animals are very, very special to me.

Last weekend I attended a Taylor Swift concert with my youngest daughter and my nieces. While we were waiting in line (a long, long line at that…), a man and his young son pushed their way through the crowd to get in front of everyone. One of the other dads in line said quite loudly, “Me first, huh? What makes you so special?”

I was interviewed on three different radio shows this week – there is a strong interest, for most people in personal and business situations, in learning how to deal with those difficult others. I found myself on several occasions talking about the “dance” we get into with others. The dance goes like this: My sister says something she always says that irritates me, I respond the way I always do that irritates her, she responds again and so on. We dance the same steps to the same tune over and over again.